Moments
by thoushallcallmeawesome
Summary: A series of one-shots between the best damn pairing in the entire world. Romione!
1. Number 12 Grimmauld Place

Ron thought she looked beautiful in the moonlight. There were air motes swirling around her face where the moonlight shone upon, her lips pale and cracked. He continued to look at her, just staring and staring, until Hermione twisted violently, her fingers digging into the sofa and her teeth biting her lips.

"Hermione. Hermione, are you okay?" He sat up, shaking her awake. _Of course she's not okay you git, she's having a nightmare. _ Well, whatever nightmare she was stuck in, Ron hoped it would be over soon. He hated that feeling of hopelessness, of being unable to help somebody, especially when that somebody was Hermione. He thought back to the countless times she had helped him, knowing he would never be able to repay the favour.

"Hermione. Hermione, wake up." His voice was more insistent now, laced with just a touch of panic.

Hermione gasped, her back arching and she cried out- softly, barely more than a whimper. Her eyes wrenched open and her hands found Ron's face. She cradled his face for awhile, the horror still fresh and vivid in her mind. "Oh, its you. Its you," she murmured, rocking slightly. Slowly her breathing calmed down and her hands slipped from his face.

He was facing opposite her, lying on a mattress in 12 Grimmauld Place, more in love than he thought he could possibly be. "What is it, 'Mione?"

His voice was soft, so soft and comforting. Hermione closed her eyes. "Nothing. Just some...stupid nightmare."

He knew her too well to believe her lie, and cared too much to ignore her tone getting higher as she stumbled over the words to lie to him.

His gaze bores into hers, and she just wants to tell him everything, but she's afraid of sounding so very _weak. _She shakes her head, and he glares at her. "Tell me, Hermione."

Her voice cracks, coming out so soft he thinks she's just mouthing the words and not really replying him.

"What if…what if we don't defeat Volde... You-Know-Who?"

And then Ron softens, and smiles reassuringly at her, and she knows it's going to be alright, "Course we will 'Mione. We'll knock him dead."

She manages a laugh, and the fear goes away for awhile. It comes back though, but Ron senses it and they spent the whole night talking, about Hogwarts, and Chocolate Frog Cards, and Quidditch and Dumbledore and homework they'll be missing, and sweet, sweet Ronald, so unaware of the effect he has on her, holds her hand dangling from the couch the entire night, stroking her palm with the pad of his thumb, just stroking and stroking…

It's the wee hours of the morning when weak light is streaming through the grimy window when they finally fall asleep.


	2. Nightmares

Sometimes, Hermione still had nightmares. That was why she never liked sleeping alone- always with the light on or with Ron beside her, encasing her in his arms, making her feel _ohsosafe. _Of course, she knew she was being silly- light didn't stop Voldemort from killing all those innocent people, did it?

Still, she would scream awake, digging her nails into her own palm, bleeding slightly as she did so. It was always the same nightmares, and she hated feeling so so _scared._ The nightmares never had a pattern- it could occur two days in a row, and then only reappear like some ghost from the past a month later; she could be reading and then suddenly, dozing off, the nightmare would terrify her again. It didn't matter that Voldemort had died now, it didn't matter that her family- Ron and Hugo and Rose- were safe; somewhere in her subconscious she still was so so terrified.

It would start out harmless enough, these nightmares of hers- she'd be doing something perfectly ordinarily like going to the shops with Rose, and then suddenly something would pull her back, back back back all the way to this graveyard, where she was pinned by a statue's embrace.

A row of Death Eaters would line up, holding daggers with the tip dipped in poison, and they would come forward, one by one, to slash at her- her face, her body, her hands, it didn't matter. And the dreadful thing was, they would lift up their hoods and it wouldn't be Death Eaters anymore, it could be any one of her dead friends. "You killed me," Fred Weasley would say.

'You killed me," Remus Lupin would echo.

"You killed me," Alastor Moody would scream.

And the terrifying thing was, it _was _true. She knew in the end, if they hadn't fought it would have been worse, but somehow, her actions caused them, these wonderful, wonderful people to die. This fact was more excruciating than the poison that ran through her veins, swimming in her blood, stabbing, sharp pains racking her entire body. She would end up awake, her mouth open in a perfect 'O', devoid of any sound but silent terror, perspiration sticking to her like glue.

And that was why she loved fairytales. Once, when Ron was joking, he had whispered to her in the dead of the night, 'Do you want me to read you a fairytale?"

And she had agreed, of course, without realizing he had been joking.

Ron had then, bless him, hunted through their little library, taken down all the muggle and wizard fairytales, and memorized them by heart so he could play storyteller.

She awoke again now, her breathing laboured, and Ron shifted awake next to her. He opened those beautiful turquoise eyes of him then whispered to her,

"Once upon a time…"


	3. Better than fine, Actually

Ron looked at the piece of parchment, to Hermione who was sitting by the fireplace, then back again, rage quelling in him for no particular reason. Squashing the paper, he muttered, "Incendio," watching in delight as the flames licked up every square centimeter of it.

"What's that, Ron?" Hermione asked curiously, from the other side of the room. "I know it's our first time to Hogsmeade tomorrow, and Harry can't make it, but we've still got homework, you know."

Ron felt his collar getting hot. "Nothing," he mumbled crossing over to sit with her by the warm fire. Hermione looked curiously into his blue eyes, knowing he was lying, but decided to leave it alone. There was an unexpected anger just ready to lash out, under the surface. Besides, if Ron wanted to tell her, he would eventually.

The note had read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I really fancy you, and I was wondering if you would like to meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow for some Butterbeer. I'll wait for you there, if you'd like._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

The next day, as they were walking to The Three Broomsticks, Ron panicked. He had forgotten all about the bloody admirer lusting after 'Mione. _You're a moron, _he chided himself.

"Erm, 'Mione… maybe... You wanna go to some other p-place instead?"

Hermione only frowned at him. "Ron, it's a five-minute walk to the closest shops, which is Madam Puddifoot's, and honestly, I doubt you want to go there. Besides, we're too laden with all those sweets from Honeydukes! I'm sorry Ron, but I'm really cold and I just want someplace warm to stay in, for a while."

He grimaced and nodded. It made sense of course, but he really didn't want Hermione to see this git who had sent her the note. He sighed and trudged, now closer to her than he would have thought he liked. It was simple and a comfortable blanket of silence fell between the two friends for the next few minutes.

When they entered The Three Broomsticks, Ron cast around, trying to figure out who was Hermione's secret admirer. With a sinking feeling he realized it was Zeke Cooter, a Hufflepuff in the same year as them, who started when Hermione came in through the door.

He cursed under his breath, guiding Hermione to a table with only two seats. Hopefully that stupid Cooter got the message.

"What is it, Ron?" 

"Huh?" He looked up at her through his bangs, and muttered nothing. Then a brilliant idea formed in his head. If this didn't get rid of Cooter, he didn't know what would.

"It's just that... my hand feels like its twisted or something. Just a little pain."

He put his right hand on the table, and pretended to fake a slight moan. Ron watched gleefully as Zeke Cooter left as Hermione bent over his hand, carefully prodding it and stroking it.

He withdrew it then, saying, "It's probably just the cold though."

"You ought to go and have Madam Promfrey check it, Ron," Hermione replied earnestly.

Ron watched Zeke Cooter's retreating back through the frosted window. "Nah, I'm fine. Better than fine, actually."


	4. Colours

"Purple."

"Nope."

"Erm.. pink?"

"No Ron…"

"Ginger. Come on, you know you like the ginger."

"Do not."

"See, you're blushing. Do too."

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am too."

"Am too- dang it, Ronald Weasley!"

"Green then."

"Ron, you've guessed every colour in the colour spectrum but this one colour."

"Eh, blue?"

"Yes!"

**A/N: Guess why blue is Hermione's favorite colour? :P First reader to PM me the answer gets a mention the next chapter! xD**


	5. Really, Ron?

Hermione watched Ron, as he entered the common room with Lavender hanging off him like some human necklace. She turned away in disgust. Honestly, she felt like slapping some sense into that ginger sometimes.

Why was he such a prick? He _promised_to be at the library at 2 in the afternoon today, so they could have done their homework together, like the good old times. Instead, he's hanging around, just attached simply _attached _Ms Brown's lips, who was probably as bright as Scabbers, before they realized he was Peter Pettigrew. Hermione blinked back tears before realizing she had written _Ron, Ron, Ron _about five times on her Transfiguration essay. _What am I even doing? _

Someone cleared their voice, and Hermione looked up, immediately hiding the piece of parchment. It was Ron, sans Lavender.

"Hermione… about today.."

She cut him off immediately, her voice tone sharp and particularly venomous. "Forget it, Ron. Obviously, you have more_ important _things to do." At this, she looked over at Lavender, who was looking at Ron with a soppy look on her face. Ron flinched. "Its not like you've already _promised _to do homework together with a friend you've known for _years_," the venom in her voice stung Ron, who took a step back.

She stood up, grabbing all her things. "Goodnight Weasley."

**A/N: Like every other relationship, couples have arguments. As you can se, when Hermione's mad, she's mad. And Ron, well… he was just going through the most moronic phase of his life then. We call it puberty. ;P Just wanted Romione to be more realistic here, hope you enjoyed it! xD Also, a little shoutout to glee851, WeasleyFan and Ravenclaw221, the latter of which gave me my first review, ever! Thanks so much! The first two are the beforementioned promises, but I'm not really sure who actually replied with the answer first. Nonetheless, keep on reading and thank you guys so much! ;D**


	6. My favourite place is your warm embrace

"Hermione?"

"Mmm.. hang on a minute Ron.. Yeah?" She turned around to Ron, who greeted her with a peck on the lips.

Taken aback, Hermione asked curiously, "What was that for?"

Ron shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Nothing. I just wanted to do that."

She allowed a small smile to escape, then pressed them down sternly again. "Ron, you know I have to finish reading this. I've got to teach tomorrow."

Ron reached for Hermione, grabbing her around the waist and finally settling her on his lap. He licked her ear. "I know."

Hermione squirmed, trying to get out of his embrace, but he was too strong. Eventually she leaned back into his chest. "Fine... Just don't distract me, Ron, I really need to complete this by tomorrow, or I'll have a handful trying to explain to the headmistress."

"Mmm," he murmured into the nape of her neck, "fine."

He watched her read, her eyes scanning the pages, and inhaled her strawberry scented hair. He could almost fall asleep, it was just so relaxing and comforting…

Then he nipped at her shirt, using his teeth to pull down a pink bra strap. Hermione started, and jumped up. "Ron!" Her voice had risen a few octaves and her cheeks were coloured.

"What?" He leant back on the loveseat, arms crossed behind his head. Then Ron leant forward, jumped up, and tackled his girlfriend.

"Oh Ron what are you – OOMPH!"

The ginger rained kisses on her, his beautiful girlfriend that he knew he didn't deserve- a few days after they started dating, Ron wouldn't stop calling Hermione "my girlfriend"- on her neck, her cheeks, her ears, her forehead, finally leaving a trail of kisses along her jaw line to her lips.

"Mmm," Hermione closed her eyes, and moaned in pleasure, forgetting all about her "very important work".

She loved kissing Ron. She loved it very, very much indeed.

His stubble would graze her chin just oh so perfectly and she always got lost in his hair…

She looked up at him again, through heavy-lidded eyes, admiring the light dusting of freckles across his nose, his ginger hair she had fallen in love with all those years ago, and sighed.

"What's wrong, love?" Ron asked above her, his voice husky, his lips brushing against hers, sending just the slightest shivers down her spine.

"Mmm, nothing," she buried herself in his embrace.

**A/N: Wanted to do more lemons here but really, I suck at those and that would be embarrassing. Eitherway, here is Romione! Continue spreading the love :) **


	7. Gutter

**A/N: Credit to SuperTacoCat, and thank you all for all the lovely reviews! **

It startled her more than anyone.

She had expected him to be all over her. Not that she was pompously proud of her looks or anything (actually, that was the one aspect of herself that she did not take pride in), but for some reason unbeknownst to her, the redhead was attracted to her so called beauty. So, him being the boy and all, she thought he'd be the one to think dirty.

She was, for once, very, very wrong.

She could tell he liked her; her heart would swell whenever their hands brushed and he would blush, mumbling a quick apology. But he was such a gentleman that she often was left sorely disappointed when he would simply cuddle up to her on the occasions that she snuck into his apartment to spend the night. Sure, she loved the feeling of his arms around her, but she wanted MORE.

She wasn't sure when her mind had rolled face down in the gutter, but she couldn't bring herself to be bothered by it. After all, he was much too sexy.

His hair felt phenomenal as she twisted her fingers in it. She was hyper aware of his hand on the small of her back, but that was nothing compared to the feeling that coursed through her body at the intense kissing he had sprung on her. He backed her into the granite counter (when had they entered the kitchen?) and yelped when he picked her up- by the rear, no less- and set her on top of the long wooden table. Salt and pepper shakers rolled off the table and hit the floor with resounding _clunks_ as she lay down and arched her back, pressing her chest into his. He slipped an arm around her torso and pressed their bodies flush together. She leaned up for a kiss when he pulled away.

"Hermione, we should stop. I mean, I don't want to make you do something you'll reg-"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you don't take your pants off in the next five seconds, I will hurt you."


	8. Names, Part 1

"How about Mathilda?"

"Erm… no, that's not it."

"Danielle?"

"Jessica?"

"Minerva? It's Greek for wisdom."

"Ugh, no 'Mione."

"Okay then… Bryony."

"Belinda."

"No."

"No."

"I can't believe the baby's due.. like, tomorrow and we haven't even decided on the name yet! We must be the worst parents in the world," Hermione cried, head between hands.

Ron moved closer to console her. "Unfortunately, I might agree with that."

Hermione looked at him through spread fingers. "Ron," she said exasperatedly.

"What? Oh alright, fine, fine. Audrey."

"Nope… that's not right either."

"We should have bought a baby's names' book or something…"

"Oh, really, you do think so, Ronald?"


End file.
